She’d eventually decided it was best to not say anything. Although she probably should tell him now. But it wasn’t something she could just blurt out. Besides, based on past history, he probably wasn’t planning to stay in Destiny. He would take care of Dottie’s estate, then head out. This time for good since he had no family here.
Correction: no family that he knew about.
Her gaze scanned the rodeo crowd in search of her daughter’s curly black hair. A while ago Faith had been in the stands with Sheriff Grady O’Connor, his twin girls and Jensen Stevens. Looking in the same place where she’d last seen them, Maggie spotted the sheriff, but everyone else was gone.
“Where’d they go?” she muttered, craning her neck.
“Who?” he asked, half turning to see where she was looking.
“The three little girls I’m keeping my eye on,” she said vaguely. “They’ve been flitting around those stands like bees looking for pollen.”
“What do they look like?” he asked.
Maggie wanted to say, “One has your eyes and hair color, combined with my curls.” Fortunately good sense prevailed.
“Two are identical—Grady’s twins. The other one is wearing blue jeans and a neon-pink T-shirt.”
He scanned the bleachers. Maggie had the feeling that his scrutiny was methodical and re lent less, as if he were stalking his prey through a pair of binoculars. She shivered at the thought. There was an alert intensity about him that she didn’t remember. She wondered what had happened to him in the years since she’d last seen him.
“Nothing.”
“Me, either. Darn it. Just a while ago, a man approached them. A stranger.”
“It’s championships,” he said. “There’s bound to be people you don’t recognize.”
“I know. But this guy just gave me a bad feeling. Go ahead and laugh.”
He shook his head. “I’ve learned to never under estimate gut instinct.”
“Okay.”
How had he learned? She was curious but wouldn’t ask any more than she would explain the odd sensations she’d had all night—after catching a glimpse of him. When Taylor Stevens had stopped by her booth, Maggie had shared the fact that she was creeped out. That ever since Mitch Rafferty had returned to Destiny, it was as if the past was catching up with all of them.
She’d teased that he was a cosmic catalyst, and wasn’t so sure that it wasn’t the truth. Just then the sheriff had joined the girls and the stranger had disappeared. Now that she couldn’t see the girls, Maggie’s bad feeling kicked up again, this time into over drive.
At that moment she spotted Taylor’s sister, Jensen, strolling by the booth. “Jen?”
The stunning green-eyed brunette stopped and looked. “Hi, Maggie.” She walked over to the booth. “You look familiar,” she said to Jack.
“Jack Riley,” he said.
“Now I remember.” She slid Maggie a look that said she approved of her taste in men. Then Jensen looked more closely and asked, “What’s wrong, Maggie?”
“I saw you in the stands with the girls a little while ago, Jen. Did you see which way they went?”
She nodded. “I think Kasey and Stacey were on their way to the refreshment stand. Faith was headed in the direction of the stock pen.”
“Doggone it. That girl doesn’t have the good sense God gave a grass hop per.” She met Jack’s intense gaze and tried to tamp down her reaction. The last thing she wanted was him questioning anything until she had a chance to think this through.
“I’m sure Faith is fine,” Jensen assured her.
“Do me a favor, Jen? Watch my booth while I see what’s what?” Maggie opened the wooden door as she spoke.
“Sure,” the other woman answered, changing places with her. “I’ll do the best I can to hold down the fort.”
“Don’t worry. It was busy before the rodeo events started but now it’s slow. Intermission is almost over so you shouldn’t have a problem. I’ll be back in a few. Thanks, Jen. ’Bye, Jack,” she said, starting off in the direction of the stock pen.
“I’ll go with you.” He fell into step beside her.
“That’s not necessary,” she answered, hurrying to keep up with his long-legged stride.
It briefly crossed her mind to sprint away. But he had her on height, six foot one to her five foot two. And with those thick ropy thigh muscles rippling beneath his denim jeans, she didn’t have a prayer of out running him. Besides, he would wonder why and probably ask. And she couldn’t give him an answer.
When they reached the stock pen, the smell of hay and dust was strong. In spite of the haze kicked up by the animals, she had no trouble spotting Faith at the far end of the enclosure. True to form, the girl was perched precariously on the top rung of the fence, watching the activity. She faced outward, her bottom hanging over the slat, on the animal’s side. Maggie’s bad feeling just got worse.
“Faith,” she called when they were a few feet away. “Get down from there.”
The little girl saw her and started to wave, using her whole body to do it. “Hi—”
The next thing Maggie knew, her child had lost her balance and was tumbling backward into the wooden steer enclosure. Everyone’s attention was on rodeo commissioner Mitch Rafferty, standing with a microphone in the center ring. Nobody close to Faith had noticed her fall.
“Oh, God—” Maggie’s heart leaped into her throat. She felt as if she were trapped in a night mare, trying to wade through hip-deep honey to get to her daughter.
But Jack didn’t hesitate. Without a word he jumped onto the middle rung of the fence, then swung himself over and into the pen. He slapped the rumps of the milling steers to move them out of the way. In the next instant he scooped Faith up into his arms and turned his back, putting his body between the little girl and the nervous animals tossing their wide heads with the dangerous horns. Seconds later he climbed back over the fence, still holding the child.
With her arm around his strong neck, Faith smiled at Jack. “Thanks, mister.”
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Then Faith spotted her. “Maybe not. But it’s okay if you put me down now. It’s time for me to suffer dire consequences.”
“Are you hurt?” Maggie took her daughter by her upper arms and checked her freckled face for bumps and bruises. Fortunately, she didn’t find any. There were red spots on her pink shirt, but that was a cherry snowcone stain. The worst of the ordeal seemed to be the muck and straw mixed with dust that stuck to the backside of her britches.
“She’s okay.” Jack scanned the crowd. “But I think we should find her folks.”
Faith’s blue-eyed
